


Awakened Spirit

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egyptian Deities, Anti is a god, Like, M/M, have fun with that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 01:57:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12571152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: Mark has explored ancient tombs from many past civilizations for years. He hadn't thought this one to be any different. Until he awakens a sleeping deity from his imprisoned sleep, that is.





	Awakened Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> I'd had this idea a while back and rewrote it a few times. I don't know if I'll continue writing it yet but I do have the entire story planned out. Tell me ya'll think and I may continue it.

Mark loves to explore tombs. That’s his job. Being an archeologist that goes out into the field. And it had been a hard job to achieve, too, with his background and ethnicity. Asians in this day and age are not allowed to many jobs, including archeology. But, he eventually found an…. Organization, let’s call it, that hired him for his dreamed career. Now, he is in a tomb which they had found in Ireland of all places, oddly enough. He’s in the middle of one of its many halls, studying one of the walls.

“Huh,” he said aloud to himself, taking note of how the patterns look very similar to Hieroglyphics. Egyptian Hieroglyphics, at that. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of this discovery before continuing downwards, the sound of his footsteps echoing loudly around them. He always enjoys being deep in a tomb around no one else. It’s just himself and the ancient stones, each one having a different story to tell, hidden within. Mark always loves finding the stories, the history they’ve seen.

He eventually reaches the end of the main hall, stepping into a large and spacious chamber. He hums, voice echoing many times around him. This layout mimics that of an Egyptian pyramid tomb. This entire tomb’s layout mimics one of those, then again. So much so Mark finds himself constantly reminding himself that he’s not in Egypt, he’s in Ireland. His eyes scan the rest of this chamber, finding a pedestal in the center and what appears to be a stone coffin on the other side. He walks to the pedestal first, running his fingertips along the cool metal of its surface. It has a middle that splits to two arms, reaching out and up. On both arms hang what appears to be silver snake necklaces. When Mark tries to take one off, however, he finds them to be basically attached to the metal. He frowns and moves his sights to the large, stone coffin before walking to it, standing just beside it. He reaches a hand out and bends down to get a closer look when he finds there to be Hieroglyphs etched into its side.

“‘That who sets him free will forever cursed be,’” Mark reads outloud, eyebrows knitting together as he tries to think of what they could mean. Yes, he can read, write and speak Ancient and modern Egyptian. He has been studying it for years now, of course he’s going to know the language. He needs to know it if he’s going to study it. It kind of goes both ways. He draws back to a standing position, rubbing his fingers along his chin as he tries to think of what to do next. He could probably move the lid from the top of coffin. Besides, his boss would be mad if he didn’t have anything to show for this little trip. He should probably look inside because there maybe something on the corpse. Plus, seeing how they buried their dead is good to study. Even if this is Ireland and not Egypt.

He sighs heavily, having made up his mind. He hooks his fingers beneath the edges of the lid, finding there to normally be a gap between the lid and the actual coffin. He grunts as he pulls and pushes upwards, muscles straining as he tries his best to open this stone coffin. He’s just lifting it up three inches when it happens: a flash of bright, green light and a loud explosion. A sudden strong gust of air pushes him backwards and he hits the opposite wall, sight going black for a moment. He shakes his head, trying to clear his vision. As it does clear, he sees the blurry figure of a man standing from the coffin he’d just “activate” into “exploding”. His eyes widen and he blinks madly to further clear his vision, heart picking up in speed when something begins to slither up his leg. He slaps at it only for it to move over his hand, slowly crawling up to his shoulder. He lets out a gasp as the thing wraps tightly around his neck. He grabs at it, nails scraping over a smooth and cold surface. He’s so focused on the thing wrapped around his neck he doesn’t notice how a small line of light goes from the thing across the floor to the blurry figure. Or how the figure is approaching him, their footsteps light on the floor.

He doesn’t doesn’t notice until the green light from before is illuminating his legs and the floor around them, bare feet with clawed toes entering his eyesight. He swallows heavily, knowing there should be no one else but him in these tombs. Unless you counted the carcass but he doesn’t because that man would be dead. 

Mark slowly and fearfully raises his eyes from the ground, gasping when he finds the face of a young caucasian male standing over him. This man is not too tall- he’s actually shorter than Mark(not that he could tell at the moment with him towering menacingly over him). His hair isn’t too long but it is long enough to fall around his cheeks, framing the pale face. In fact, he is so pale he looks almost like he is made of a paper substance, like any pressure against his body would break him. His lips are also pale, a paler red than most and thin. His entire complexion looks pale and sickly- all except for his eyes. His eyes are completely different. They are entirely black save for green and glowing pupils, staring down at Mark with a form of curiosity. He has no current attire on, it would seem, because he is wearing a white and ragged toga, different types of golden jewelry decorating his body. And then Mark watches as he lifts a hand, fingertips pointed with long and sharp claw like nails.

All in all, this man looks a lot like he stepped from an Ancient Egyptian museum exhibit. Or like the ghost of a former civilian. Which both ideals should be impossible. The former being more likely than the latter but still completely unlikely.

They stare at one another for a full minute, neither saying anything and the only sound being that of their breathing. That’s when Mark takes the time to look at what could have wrapped around his neck, finding one of the snake necklaces from before coiled around his skin. He looks back up, finding the other around the man’s neck as well. Strange.

 

Finally, Mark stands, feeling the man’s eyes following his every movement. He shudders at the thought of those cold, green eyes locked on him. He brushes himself off before once more meeting the other man’s gaze, if reluctantly. They stare without saying anything again until Mark can get his voice to work, “Who the hell are you?”

The man tilts his head, almost curiously, and continues to stare Mark down, ears twitching and now Mark can see that they are pointed, much like a pair of elf ears. His eyes glow brighter momentarily before he points a finger towards Mark’s neck, eyes narrowing. “I could ask you the same thing,” he asked a moment later and Mark has to flinch at his voice. It’s so high pitched and scratchy, not easy on the ears at all. “You enter my tomb, disturb my coffin, and then you ask who I am? Really funny logic you have there.”

Mark slowly blinks as he hears this, tongue sliding out to slowly lick his lips. “Y- your tomb?” he asked and his voice is shaking from amusement. He’s trying his best not to laugh his ass off because what the hell? Who says that an ancient tomb is their own? That’s absurd. Who’s ever tomb this is is long dead. Has been for centuries, at the least. “This can't be your tomb.”

The man’s eyes narrow further and in the blink of an eye he's darted forward, grabbed Mark around the neck, and slammed him into the wall, effectively making Mark gasp for air as it's suddenly forced from his lungs. The man leans in close, breath brushing against his face and Mark pants for air, looking through the corners of his eyes at the green glowing orbs. His hands come upwards, clawing at the fingers clamped like iron around his neck. 

“Of course it is,” the man hissed and high pitched voice is now rough, like a growl. Mark gasps for more air as the fingers only tighten their hold and his feet are fully lifted from the ground with the man’s strange strength. “They trapped me in my tomb to keep my contained.”

Mark can only gasp in response and a second later the man scoffs, fingers uncoiling. Mark falls to back to the ground, landing ungracefully on his ass. His hand flies up to his throbbing neck, panting for air like a fish out of water. His eyes are watering and he watches as the man turns, examining his claws. “I can't kill you for your ignorance, though,” he hears the man mutter and he begins to pick at his nails. “For Ra’s sake…”

Mark swallows heavily, clearing his throat and blinking to rid his eyes of the tears that had gathered. He runs at his collared neck before standing, hunched slightly as he is still breath taken from that sudden attack. “Wh- who are you?” He asked again, stammering from lack of breath as he leans against the wall to keep his shaking legs from giving out beneath him. 

The man turns back to face him, a scowl on his face as he looks Mark up and down. Yet also a fascination glows in his eyes. He steps forward once more and Mark flinches as clawed fingers wrap around his chin instead, lifting his face upwards. “Well, since I'm stuck to you, I might as well introduce myself,” he said Witch a click of his tongue, eyes flashing when Mark bats his hand away. He draws back with a flourish, bowing low to Mark in a fluid movement. “I am Mutahir, or Anti, as you may call me,” he straightens back up, a smirk on his thin lips, “I am the god of death and chaos.”

And that sets Mark reeling. He blinks slowly once more, mouth slowly falling open as “Mutahir”, or, Anti, grins fully, laughing as his expression. He strides forward once more, wrapping an arm around Mark’s shoulders this time and leaning heavily into him. Mark has to catch himself to keep both of them from falling. “And who in Ra’s name are you?” Anti asked with a hum, blowing on Mark’s neck and Mark has to shudder. If what this man says is true, he's dealing with an actual god of death and has to be extremely careful with what he says and does. 

“My name is Mark- Mark Fischbach,” he replied, forcing his voice to not shake and make a fool of himself before this possible god. He can't show weakness if this really is a god of death. Gods of death normally feed on weakness according to myths. 

“Well, Mark Fischbach,” Anti said, exaggerating his name, “since we’re going to be stuck together, why don't we leave this nasty fucking tomb, hm?”

And that's how Mark became bound to the god of   
death.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope ya'll enjoyed ;)


End file.
